Remember to Breathe
by Jamsel
Summary: When three best friends fall apart and leave each other creating three different tales. What happens when they begin to interweave? Perhaps a bit of Romance…
1. Hit or Miss

Chapter One: Hit or Miss  
  
Author: Jamsel  
  
Rating: PG  
  
Summary: When three best friends fall apart and leave each other creating three different tales. What happens when they begin to interweave? Perhaps a bit of Romance.  
  
Pairing: Maybe R/Hr  
  
Disclaimer: as someone else wrote. I'm just a fanfic author. JKR owns the characters I just play in her playground.  
  
"Have I waited to long  
  
Have I found that someone  
  
Have I waited to long  
  
To see you"- New Found Glory taken from Hit or Miss  
  
Hermione sprinted down the driveway as fast as she could, her lungs burning in the night air. She grabbed a tree branch and swung herself up and over the seven foot stone wall, landing cat like on the other side. She took a minute to regain her footing and continued the sprint to her car. Taking a minute to look back up at the mansion she noticed that a few lights had turned on. Quickly, she jumped into her car and sped off down the road.  
  
The job had come to her by telephone, the buyer hadn't identified themselves but they had offered her five hundred thousand Galleons to steal eight different rings, all in different highly protected homes or museums. This was her second ring, they were rather remarkably plain, white gold with a single letter engraved on the inside of each. She never questioned her jobs anymore, she just took them. She never accepted jobs worth under two hundred and fifty thousand anymore. It was an insult.  
  
The life of a thief, she found, was rather enjoyable. She'd thrown ethics out the window when her old life had come to a halt. She'd become a thief out of desperation for something to put her excess energy into. And she'd become a very, very good one. No one (in the black market circle) really knew who she was. They'd nicknamed her "The Shadow," because she had never failed a job. Ever. She pulled in the most money out of anyone within the circle and she was nothing but a mere rumour to most.  
  
She turned off the main road and pulled onto a short side road. After a few minutes she turned off the side road onto an old country road. She bumped along the road and eventually came up to a wooden gate. She climbed out of the car and unlocked the creaky gate. As she drove up to her mansion, she smiled. It was a beautiful old house, full of cozy rooms and fireplaces that she spent the weekends reading in.  
  
Her maid, Esmerelda, came to greet her and handed her a letter that had just come by owl. It was a heavy envelope, her name spelled out in purple ink on the cream coloured front. She entered her mansion and jogged up the stairs flipping the water on in her bath tub. Zipping open her backpack she removed the ring studying with curiosity. She still couldn't understand why this ring was so important. Shrugging Hermione placed the ring in a box inside of her safe and recovered the safe with a hanging tapestry. Shrugging out of her black clothing she sank into the bathtub, grabbed the envelope and ripped it open. It was a wedding invitation. Curiously, she flipped it in and read it. She gasped and almost dropped it into the water.  
  
Mr. Sirius Black and his fiancé Mrs. Arabella Figg cordially invite you to celebrate with them their Marriage Saturday July the twenty first Two o'clock St. Orgdenberg Church, Hogsmeade. Please RSVP by Owl if you wish to bring a guest. Ron Weasley shook his head staring at the crumbled walls of the small motel room. The walls were water stained and the bedcovers looked moldy. He shrugged and dropped his things. He needed sleep and this was a bed. Sighing he fell back upon the bed covers. Life as an auror was never as glamorous as people thought. Sighing he leaned back into the pillow and tried to close his eyes. He couldn't keep them closed. For some reason he had to get up. He sat at the edge of the bed and rummaged around until he found a small photo book. He always carried it with him but never looked at them. He didn't know why.  
  
Sitting cross legged in the center of the bed he opened the photo book. The picture instantly made him smile. It was a picture the Hogwarts school photographer had taken when he, Hermione and Harry had been reunited. They were all smiling up at him, arms around one another. They had been so innocent. He sighed, not wanting to continue. The war had taken so much from him, the biggest loss, his friends.  
  
He hadn't heard from either of them since it ended, six long years ago. They'd fought together for two years after leaving school, fought for their freedom and the freedom of wizards everywhere. And they won. He sighed. But the war had taken its toll on himself and his friends. When it was all over, he remembered that day and he would forever, they all went their separate ways. Hermione had been broken, he hated himself for letting that happen to her, Harry just looked tired. He was the first to leave. He'd just jumped on his broomstick and flown away. Not a word to anyone, not even Sirius. Hermione had run after that and himself. He sighed and turned the page.  
  
It was a picture from the summer, when they'd all been at his house after first year. Smiling happily in the garden of the Burrow. The next picture of the trio in the common room, the next of them reunited at the feast, when Hermione woke up from being petrified. The one after that the trio after the Sirius Black ordeal in Third Year. He smiled to himself remembering good ol' Sirius. How he'd cared so much for Harry and the gang.  
  
The picture book told the tale of The Trio at Hogwarts, each year at least three photographs and more telling of the major events. Those had been the best years of his life. He'd give anything to see his friends again. He flipped to the final page of the book, at the picture he knew was coming. He feared that picture so much. It was a picture of Hermione and him, sometime in the final three months of school. She'd jumped on his back and he was holding her. They were both laughing, not looking at the photographer. It was his last happy memory of that year. It was the last memory he'd had of her smiling, laughing. Emotion over came him and he slammed the book shut. He hated himself. He blamed himself for letting her get taken. He wished ever day that he could turn back time and save her, help her. Harry, Ginny, everyone had told him to let it go. But he couldn't. She'd felt so much pain, seen so much pain. He hated himself for letting that happen to her. He hated himself for letting her be tainted by the powers of Voldemort. Sighing he leaned back into the pillows and attempted to close his eyes when he heard a rapping at the window. Wand drawn he threw open the musty curtain to find an Owl hovering outside. He sighed and opened the window and the owl flew inside covered in rain. It dropped a heavy looking envelope on the table with his name written on it in purple ink and flew back out into the storm. Curiously he picked up the letter and closed the window. It was a wedding invitation. He flipped it open and dropped it in surprise. It read  
  
Mr. Sirius Black and his fiancé Mrs.Arabella Figg cordially invite you to celebrate with them their Marriage. Saturday July the twenty first Two o'clock St. Orgdenberg Church, Hogsmeade. Please RSVP by Owl if you wish to bring a guest.  
  
Harry stared at the empty classroom, remembering when he used to walk through the doors, late and hurried. Accosted by a door, a faulty step or Peeves who still lived in the old classroom block. He stared at the third desk from the left, the desk where he usually sat with Ron and Hermione during Defense Against the Dark Arts. It had always been one of his favourite classes, and now he was a professor.  
  
After the war, he had to escape the area. He just couldn't look at anyone anymore. It was as if they would judge him for killing. He couldn't handle it, so he went to Gringotts, filled his pockets with gold and left for two years. He traveled on his broomstick everywhere he could think of, always wearing some kind of hat, to remain incognito in the crowds. He traveled all around Europe, flying by night, exploring the mornings. It wasn't as if he would've been able to sleep. He hadn't gotten a good night's sleep since, well, before the war.  
  
Two years later a letter from Dumbledore (who had survived the war and was still the Headmaster of Hogwarts) persuaded him to return to England and become a professor-Defense Again the Dark Arts. He agreed after much hesitation it was an owl from Sirius that had made him agree to the idea. Sirius had been upset when Harry fled, even though he remained contact. He'd encouraged Harry to move on, his parents, Ron and Hermione, would have all wanted it. He wanted Harry to move on. The war was over, there was nothing left to do but live, Sirius had written. Harry agreed to this a bit reluctant to start over.  
  
He'd started teaching at once, immersing himself in his students and his classes. There was a group of friends, two boys and a girl from Gryffindor house in one of his First year classes. One, clever, one courageous, one funny, they reminded him of himself, Ron and Hermione when they were in school. He sighed, the sigh echoing throughout the empty class room. He sat up at his desk and began to gather his books together. It was time to return to his apartments for some sleep, or attempt at sleep. He stood up and was preparing to leave when Dumbledore entered the room.  
  
"Oh, hello Professor." Harry said plopping back down at his desk with a bit of a sigh. He scratched his head looking at his old mentor.  
  
"Hello Harry." The old man said with a wrinkled smile. Despite the fact that he was a teacher, Dumbledore still called him Harry. Harry liked it better. "Is something troubling you?"  
  
"No," Harry sighed. "Just reminiscing." Dumbledore smiled at him. "That little trio in Gryffindor, brings back memories eh?" The old man's eyes twinkled with delight. His thoughts seemed to wander back to old times for a moment. "Definitely." Harry said with a cold smile. He wanted to see them again, very much so. He sighed and stood up. "Walk with me to the hospital wing Headmaster?" Dumbledore looked at him curiously. "I'm just going to get a sleeping draught."  
  
"Insomnia still bothering you?" Dumbledore asked as they began to walk. Harry nodded. "You know, Harry, there are many magical ways to cure that, you don't need a potion. It's almost the equivalent to a Muggle Sleeping pill."  
  
Harry shook his head and look at the headmaster with tired eyes. He tried to smile a bit and failed. "The muggle stuff is weaker. I still have the dreams. The only good sleep I can find is the sleep draught Madame Pomfrey makes." He sighed. He'd tried everything to obtain a good night's sleep but nothing worked. The sleeping draught did the job but he usually awoke with headaches, stomach aches and weakness.  
  
"Harry, I don't mean to butt into your personal life but when was the last time you spoke Mr.Weasly or Ms.Granger?" Harry raised his eyebrows at the Headmaster. It was a very odd question coming from him. He usually only asked about Sirius (who Harry frequently wrote too and visited at Christmas.)  
  
"Well, " Harry began thinking and realized "after the last battle six years ago. That's when I left. We all went our separate ways that day." The Headmaster looked at him surprised.  
  
"Perhaps it is time." With that final word Dumbledore turned down an opposite hall way and left Harry to go get his sleeping draught.  
  
When Harry returned to his apartments, ready to sleep he noticed a heavy cream coloured envelope sitting on his desk. He cut it open, read the letter and smiled. Mr. Sirius Black and his fiancé Mrs. Arabella Figg cordially invite you to celebrate with them their Marriage Saturday July the twenty first Two o'clock St. Orgdenberg Church, Hogsmeade. Please RSVP by Owl if you wish to bring a guest. PS- Would you be my best man? 


	2. Remember to Breathe

Chapter Two: Remember to Breathe  
  
Author: Jamsel  
  
Rating: PG  
  
Summary: When three best friends fall apart and leave each other creating three different tales. What happens when they begin to interweave? Perhaps a bit of Romance.  
  
Pairing: Maybe R/Hr  
  
Disclaimer: as someone else wrote. I'm just a fanfic author. JKR owns the characters I just play in her playground  
  
"Why would I chase your shadow all my life  
  
and be afraid of my own?  
  
I'd rather be with you  
  
I'd rather not know  
  
Where I'll be than  
  
Be alone and convinced that I know" Lifehouse from Spin  
  
Hermione stared at the invitation open mouthed. How had he found her? She wondered. No one had been able to find her yet, but somehow this invitation had found her. She shrugged and put it down on the ground, sinking deeper into the bath tub, submerging herself in the warm water. There was no way she could go, people would ask questions. But it was Sirius, she couldn't just deny him. He'd helped save her life. Her cover might be blown. Her person would be compromised and she would probably have some auror after her. God knew that Sirius was friends with enough of them.  
  
She would write him a nice letter and send him a present. That was her decisions, but she decided not to set it in stone. She was the Shadow, no one would know anyway. She sighed and fell into bed, her eyes instantly closing. She fell asleep  
  
Pain ran through her body again, making its spasm upwards. She cried out, tears running down her cheeks. "I won't tell you," she said quietly. "I'm not going to tell you," she whispered again. He pointed her wand at her and shouted "CRUCIO" Pain flashed in front of her eyes. She was hurting so much, she needed it to stop, and she couldn't stop it. She cried out, she was screaming. A dark cloud passed over her eyes and...  
  
Hermione awoke screaming. The dream had been so vivid this time, sighing she climbed out of bed, discontented enough. She put a cauldron on the stove that contained a potion from dreamless sleep. All it needed to do was heat and thicken. She hadn't seen him, this time; she shuddered thinking of his name- Voldemort. It made her shudder, it made her remember. She closed her eyes sliding down the wall, face in her hands and cried.  
  
When she awoke the next morning she felt refreshed after about four hours of deep, dreamless sleep. She sat down at her long breakfast table and sipped the black coffee that Esmeralda poured into her cup. She smiled with thank-you and flipped open that days Daily Prophet. Nothing much to say, some auror was getting an award; she smiled when she came across a picture of Percy, the new Minister of Magic. He would do so well with his job, she knew it. Fudge had, well he hadn't done very well with the whole war thing. People said that he could have prevented the whole thing. They blamed him.  
  
They probably just needed someone to blame.  
  
When night fell she climbed into her non descript black jeep and drove unsteadily to The South England Wizard's museum. The roads were empty and desolate but a feeling of unsteadiness had over come her. Shaking her head she turned off the road and pulled over. She had to get back into the frame of mind; she had to stop thinking about the wedding, the dream. She'd forgotten her past a while ago, why was it resurfacing now? Memories of Ron, Harry, Sirius, school, Hagrid everything was hitting her at once. She closed her eyes and leaned back against the seat. She wanted to be with them again. She wanted to so badly but it didn't matter. They would never take her back. They would never forgive her and in turn, she would never forgive herself.  
  
She was so ashamed of her weakness. How she'd given in to the pain, how she'd almost gotten Harry killed. Shaking her head she turned around. She was in no way, able to do this job tonight.  
  
Ron slept all day and awoke late the following night wiping the groggy sleep from his eyes. Sleep was the only thing that kept him sane these days. Sighing he grabbed his broomstick, murmuring inviso to make himself invisible while he flew. He launched up into the sky, hood drawn in the cold. He wondered what she was doing right now. He wondered what Harry was doing.  
  
He wanted to be with his friends again but he feared that things would never be the same. He feared that they didn't want him anymore. That they were all to lost in their own worlds to realize he wanted in again. Then again, he was never home. He hadn't been back to Auror head quarters in two years; he'd just completed assignment after assignment, never stopping. He'd solved murders, caught criminals and cleaned up magical messes. He'd almost had enough. Now was time for a break, a long one. His boss, Fletcher owed him about three months worth of holidays and he was cashing them all in starting as soon as he got back.  
  
He landed just as the sun was rising over the hills behind Aurors head quarters. He collapsed at his desk which was covered with two years worth of mail, old newspapers and reports collecting dust. No one else was in the office yet so he began to sort through the top of the pile. He pulled down a fairly recent edition of the Daily Prophet outlining two different break ins by the same person. Behind the culprit always left a little note in precise handwriting "The Shadow was here and the (stolen object) no longer is. You figure it out." He noticed that Fletcher had left him a little note in the corner. Weasley, This is your next assignment, as soon as you catch this criminal you get three months leave. I promise this time. Fletcher Ron pounded the desk. The last thing he wanted was another assignment. He noticed another note under the paper. It read. Ron, This is going to be a strange request but do you know where I can find Hermione? I know you haven't spoken to her but I want to. Where does she live? Errol can't find her. No one can. Ginny Ron sighed. He hadn't spoken to Ginny in a while either and felt terrible about it. He also had no idea where Hermione was, what she was doing. He figured he would've heard about her. She should have discovered something great by now. But, no, she had virtually disappeared off the face of the earth. He'd received quite a few owls from people trying to find her but no one could. He knew why. She blamed herself and she had no right to. It was not her fault, anyone would have given in. If anything she saved Harry by holding out for so long. After a week Harry became heavily protected. He buried his face in his hands remembering the day they'd rescued her. She was lying in the abandoned Riddle House, clothing ripped and torn. Her entire body was white and cold. She was clammy and skinny after being deprived of food for a week. He remembered cradling her in his arms and carrying her out of the house, her entire body trembling.  
  
She barely spoke after that ordeal. She graduated with top honors but refused to give the Speaker's Address, the second in the grade had given it. When they had fought in the war she was ruthless. She killed the most death eaters out of any other wizard in the war. Still, she barely spoke. She became trapped within herself and if only he'd been there to help her, if only he'd gotten to her faster.  
  
She'd gone into Hogsmeade alone one day to buy Christmas presents. She'd invited him along but he refused leaden with an enormous potions essay. If only he'd gone. He regretted not accompanying her every day of his life. It had been stupid; no one should have gone anywhere alone. Especially those close to Harry Potter. Sighing he noticed Fletcher walking into the empty office. Tearing himself for his memories he shouldered his cloak and broom, ready for the assignment.  
  
Harry entered the library facing himself with a bit of a mission. He wanted to find out what had happened to his friends. He wandered over to the stack of Old Daily Prophets that took up an entire wall categorized by date. He groaned and grabbed the paper, July 31st 2008. The day they had defeated Voldemort. He looked at the picture of the Trio on the front page. The defeat of Voldemort hadn't been due to the trio alone but they had been the actual group to point there wants at him and shout avada kedavra. He took out his wand and pointed it at the article whispering copius literati. He had his own copy of the article which he read over. All it really said about location was that the trio had disappeared soon after the defeat.  
  
He checked every paper for the following month but there wasn't really anything of substance. He continued to read through each late into the night. The library closed but he stayed, by the light of his wand he searched through each paper up until the anniversary of the defeat of Voldemort. It was then that he struck gold. The anniversary edition of the paper did a profile of each he, Ron and Hermione. He smiled at Ron's biography. It read that he was now in training to become an auror. He probably did become one. Harry though. He looked at Hermione's name, her biography was shorter (probably because she was muggle born and less information could be found about her, since her parents were killed), and where it was supposed to outline what she was doing now it read Hermione Granger, one of the best witches of her time has disappeared. She has been in contact with no one and currently is unemployed as far as we can tell. No owl has been able to find her since the defeat of Voldemort.  
  
Harry shook his head. He couldn't understand why she would go into hiding. What did she have to hide from? He sighed. Well he could probably owl Ron, some how. Tell him about the wedding. He decided to see if Sirius had invited him. Voldemort was right. It was time to find his friends again. He just couldn't believe it had taken him so long to realize this. He picked up a piece of parchment and scribbled a quick note. Sirius, I was wondering if you invited Ron or Hermione too you're wedding. I need to get in touch with them and I've heard they're extremely hard to find. Hermione especially. Let me know if you hear anything. Harry. He folded the note, took it down to the owlery and sent it with Hedwig. 


	3. Colourblind

Chapter Three: Colourblind  
  
Author: Jamsel  
  
Rating: PG  
  
Summary: When three best friends fall apart and leave each other creating three different tales. What happens when they begin to interweave? Perhaps a bit of Romance.  
  
Pairing: Maybe R/Hr  
  
Disclaimer: as someone else wrote. I'm just a fanfic author. JKR owns the characters I just play in her playground  
  
"I am covered in skin.  
  
No one gets to come in.  
  
Pull me out for inside.  
  
I am folded, and unfolded and  
  
Unfolding I am. Colourblind" Counting Crows  
  
Hermione dressed in her black clothing the following night. Because of her breakdown the previous night she was behind schedule. She couldn't afford anymore slip ups. She grabbed her pack and hurried out the door. Slamming the door to her car, once inside she decided to apparate. The car was usually a formality, giving her the outer appearance of a muggle. Shrugging she closed her eyes and with a pop, landed in the exact spot she had turned back the night before.  
  
Slogging through the mud in the forest she came at the museum from the back and pulled out her wand. She whispered a quick incantation and the wall opened just enough for her to wriggle through. It closed behind her. She looked around the room with a groan. The security had been correct. The museum was equipped with a magic security system which detected and magical imbalance in the air. So from now on, she was completely reliant on her muggle skills.  
  
She tip toed through the quiet museum, her senses aware of the security troll (only one) that roamed the entrance hall by night. She found the set of stairs she was looking for and turned the handle. It was locked. She groaned and pulled a bobby pin out of her pocket. She quietly picked the lock and entered the stairwell, tiptoeing. She hurried up the stairs intent on getting this over with. It just seemed more like an obligation now, more so than ever before.  
  
When she reached the right floor she exited and saw the ring glittering at the far end of the room. The room was empty. She, yet again groaned. The extra security that the museum had been boasting about wasn't merely exaggeration. The floor was tiled, some of the tiles were safe, the other bewitched. If she stepped on them she could be subjected to a number of curses that would disable her from leaving.  
  
However she had come prepared. A while ago she'd invented a pair of shoes that had soles to absorb the magic, in this type of situation they were perfect. She slowly stepped on the first tile, than the second. Everyone once in a while she would feel a little shock. By the time she reached the ring her feet were feeling a tad abused. Pulling a glass cutter out of her pocket he cut a hole in the class, reached her hand through and grabbed the ring leaving her traditional spite note in place. Crossing the secure room she hurried outside, careful not to use any magic on the way out.  
  
Another victory she thought, but didn't feel like celebrating. The wedding invitation lay heavily on her mind. She took out a pen and divided it into two halves. Pro and Con. Pro she wrote- I would get to see my friends again. Con- they might hate me. Pro- I would get to see Ron again Con- I would get to see Ron again. She groaned furiously and threw her pen across the room pulling the sheets over her head. It was hopeless. She wanted to go.  
  
Ron stared at the crime scene, furious. The third ring had been stolen the following night. It seemed strange. First, the Ring of Azingnod was taken, then the Ring of Hadind and now the Ring of Stirsu. It just didn't add up. He couldn't figure out what all the rings had in common besides appearance. He began to survey the crime scene looking at each aspect carefully. The anti-magic alarm had been on so the culprit must be either a muggle born wizard or someone with good knowledge of muggle ways. Someone who was fully capable of operating without magic. He still couldn't figure out how the culprit had crossed the floor which was rigged with many different immobilizing spells.  
  
He sighed looking at the case. "Are their any fingerprints?" He asked one of the ministry wizards helping him search the scene. The wizard shook his head and handed him the note that was left in the place of the ring. It read  
  
"The Shadow was here and the Ring of Stirsu no longer is. You figure it out."  
  
Ron stared at the note curiously. The writing seemed familiar. It was a loopy handwriting, very feminine looking, the I's were dotted with circles and the t's were deliberately crossed. Judging by the writing the culprit was female. But that wasn't just it, the writing seemed strangely familiar. Like he was reading something he'd seen before. He pocketed the note and continued to poke around.  
  
He began to sweep the floor looking for anything; a fragment of clothing, a piece of fingernail. Finally, just as he was about to quit he found a single hair. He picked it up and held it up to his face. It was a mousy brown colour with a bit of a wave in it. He wrapped the hair in a magical bubble and placed it with the other evidence. As he prepared to leave one of the wizards ran up to him. "Mr.Weasley sir you might want to read this. I just found it in a book." Ron grabbed the parchment copies the wizard had made it read  
  
"The Ring of Azingod, The Ring of Hadind, The Ring of Stirsu and The Ring of Merritok are among the Eight Rings of Asdoted. Each ring is made of priceless white gold containing unicorn blood and has a letter carved on the inside in very small writing. When place in the correct order the spell out Avada ava; when spoken with the rings present, this curse gives the witch or wizard complete control over any group of wizards/ witches at any time in any place. The only way to prevent it is to keep the rings in separate areas for one they come together, nothing good will occur."  
  
Ron looked up at the Wizard quite alarmed. "Can you get me a complete list of the names and locations of the remaining five rings?" The wizard nodded importantly and hurroed off. He leaned back against the wall. At least he was getting somewhere. He pulled the note out of his pocket and stared hard at the writing. It was so oddly familiar. He knew who it belonged to but it was on the tip of his tongue. He just couldn't remember. Racking his brains he stared at it for another minute. A girl, a smart, muggle born wizard with brown hair. Suddenly, he knew whose writing it was.  
  
It was Hermione's.  
  
Harry taught all of his classes eagerly the next day. He took his students out to face some hinky punks and returned quite a bit happier because they'd all done very well. He sighed watching the Gryffindor trio climb up the stairs and hurried back to his apartments to see if Hedwig had returned with a reply from Sirius yet. As he rounded the corner he bumped into a rather flustered Professor McGonagoll. "Sorry Professor!" he called jogging up the stairs. "Harry, could I have a word?" She asked. He nodded. She too still called him Harry. He liked it better than professor. He stepped into her office and sat down.  
  
"What is it Professor?" he asked sitting down across from her.  
  
"Potter, what are you doing here?" She asked him, eye brows raised.  
  
"What do you mean, Professor?" He asked slightly confused. She'd just called him into her office. She'd asked him to come in, what was wrong?  
  
"Potter, you have a lot of talent. You had an offer from the Wimbourn Wasps right after graduation. You're still young, why don't you take it. You can always return to Hogwarts when you retire and teach, you're good enough at it." Her crinkled eyes were dancing and she smiled. "I really think you should at least try out, I mean Wood is playing for them now and they don't have a Seeker." Harry looked at her thinking about Quidditch. He loved it, maybe it would give him what he needed to move on. He needed to get away from these ghosts of his past and start new. Maybe this was the way. He looked up at McGonagoll with a smile. "When are those tryouts?" The old woman's face broke into a smile. She stood up and shook his hand. Dumbledore would understand. He had a knack for it. Maybe old Professor Snape would get Harry's job. He's good at it.  
  
"One week from today. Start Training Potter." McGonagoll said briskly sitting back down at her desk and opening an essay. Harry nodded at her. She was a great woman, that McGonagoll. With a smile he hurried up the stairs to his apartments.  
  
When he reached them he found the note he'd been waiting for; it was from Sirius. He ripped it open and began to read.  
  
Harry, When I sent Ron and Hermione invitations for my wedding I sent them with a special "Hidden persons Owl" and it took that Owl two months to find Hermione and Ron. I've returned that Owl to the post office so I don't really have an leads about where they are but I know at least she doesn't want to be found. Ron is an auror, this I know and I've heard he just returned and is working on a case somewhere in the country. Be careful Harry, they could've changed for the worse. War affects people in different ways. So I guess Proceed with Caution. I want you at my wedding. Sirius Ps- I bet Hedwig could find them, try and get location's as neither RSVP'd yet.  
  
Harry closed the letter, a little curious, a little intrigued. He decided the draft a quick letter back before he wrote to Ron and Hermione. He trusted that Hedwig would be able to find them okay.  
  
Sirius I hope you're sitting down. I don't know if you remember but the Wimbourn Wasps tried to recruit me for their Quidditch team around graduation and I turned them down because of the war. They're holding tryouts next week in London and under the influence of McGonagoll I've decided to give it a try. My job here is becoming a bit tedious and the dreams are as clear as they were five years ago. I still can't sleep on my own and needed a drugged sleeping draught to put me out. I'm looking for closure and hopefully, with Quidditch, I'll find it. Thanks for the information on Ron and Hermione. I'm going to try and send it out tonight. Harry  
  
Without putting his quill down he switched to another piece of parchment and began to write. By nightfall he'd finished both letters, tied them to Hedwigs legs and threw her out into the night. 


End file.
